Soulseeker
by Maria Krause
Summary: 1816: a different contract, a different name. The demon Sebastian is known to his young mistress as 'Thomas Darcy', an incredibly capable valet-her valet. She sacrifices her soul for the sake of her younger sister and ends up embroiling her whole family in a massive conflict. One-and-seventy years later, Sebastian Michaelis can't help reminiscing about his days as Thomas Darcy.
1. One

**Important author's note. PLEASE read.**

Yes, this fanfic is supposed to be a romance. I've already written a Sebby/OC fanfic and it wasn't exactly a romance because I don't really approve of Sebby romances but this time I'm being a hypocrite and attempting to write a Sebby romance. This started out like more of a challenge than anything. I was talking with a friend about how could Sebby possibly fall in love. She said it could be done so I took the challenge. However, don't expect this to be one of those they-lived-happily-ever-after-married-and-with-kids. No. Not a chance.

Something else you need to know is that my source of inspiration for this are Jane Austen's novels. Most of the names (of characters and places) are taken from said novels. The story is also set around the same time period.

For various reason, don't expect regular updates. This story is meant to provide a means of procrastinating or whatever else, not a serious priority, I'm just putting it out here because I'm a sucker for notification e-mails. There, I said it. My inbox has been lonely lately.

So, enjoy. If you have time for a review, I'll be more than glad to hear from you.

* * *

Chapter I

"Well, this looks a lot worse than I had expected."

Gripping his cane, Ciel brought a gloved hand to his hat to keep it from being swept off by the wind.

His faithful butler was by his side. "Indeed."

They were both staring at the decrepit façade of an old country house, rough and discolored where the ivy couldn't conceal. The wide lawn spreading out front, once well kept and trimmed, was now overgrown into a jungle of weeds and shrubs.

With a sigh of disappointment, the young Earl got back into the carriage, hoping the rest of his journey across the lawn wouldn't be as difficult as it had been through the woods surrounding the manor. Thinking how beautiful the estate of Norland Park must have been in its days of glory, Ciel couldn't help but sigh again.

"It's been ages since a human set foot in here," he said, standing at last before the large front doors. The hinges were rusty, as was the chain keeping the doors closed.

_One-and-seventy years, to be more exact_, Sebastian felt like saying, but he checked himself and proceeded instead to unlock the doors. It would have been easy to just knock them down but he didn't want that. He didn't want to hurt this precious nest of reminiscences any further.

They walked in, slowly and cautiously, raising dust in their wake. Ciel coughed and rushed back out for a breath of fresh air. As if spring hadn't caused him enough trouble.

"Young Master, why don't you wait in the carriage while I clean up here?" Sebastian suggested, narrowing his eyes at the heaving boy.

Ciel coughed a bit more. "Very well, Sebastian. But be quick."

"Yes, my lord." The butler bowed then walked his master to the carriage. "Wait here until I come to get you."

The young Earl noticed the out-of-place, authoritative tone of his servant but didn't make much of it.

Sebastian returned to the house in the blink of an eye and slowed down as he sauntered across the main hall to the ancient, creaking staircase. It seemed to be talking to him, crying, mourning the loss of delicate feet that he, too, knew too well.

Despite the bright light outside, the manor was dark and cold. The windows that weren't broken were layered with grime or shut out completely by wooden planks.

The darkness made no difference to him, however. He knew every nook and cranny of this house, could wander about blindfolded and wouldn't get lost.

That thought reminded him of a certain game of blind man's buff and he couldn't withhold a smirk as his nerves recalled the heat of 'its' body when she tripped and fell into his arms, or the sound of her bashful laugh, or the scent of her ivory skin—

Sebastian stopped at a door ajar. It was crooked and screeched as he pushed it open, welcoming him.

Upon entering the deserted bedroom, he was greeted by the illusion of a fair head wrapped in dark burgundy curls, adorned with a pair of emerald eyes and soft plump lips curved into the finest smile a man could ever wish to see.

But, it was just that. An illusion. A memory he believed had faded away after one-and-seventy years.

Apparently, it hadn't. Not one bit.


	2. Two

**A/N: **Awfully short chapter. I hope you still enjoy it :) More will come soon.

* * *

Chapter II

The empty room was still full of her. Her voice, her soul—

No, not her soul. _Anything_ but her soul.

Sebastian licked his lips and his eyes darted to the lady's dressing table, where her beloved trinket-box—a small, rectangular mahogany box—lay shrouded in cobwebs. It had lost its luster over the years and would have been dull even in its better days, had it not been artfully decorated by his lady's slender fingers—

_His_ lady.

He picked up the box, gently wiping off the filth. An intricate floral pattern revealed itself atop the lid, etched into the wood. The design had been first drawn with a pencil, then carefully carved, and colored with oil paint.

There was something else on the dressing table. A little square of yellowed paper, tucked beneath the trinket-box. Sebastian took off his gloves to unfold it, making an effort not to tear it apart.

It was a suicide note.


	3. Three

**A/N:** Longer chapters soon in which the plot will pick up. As for my old readers, who read the initial, now discontinued version of Soulseeker, the changes will start in the next chapter. But don't worry, I'll remind you again to pay better attention so you don't miss a thing.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Chapter III

_My dearest, dearest darlings__—__I am very terribly sorry. There is hardly anything else that I can say. I have but distressed and vexed you all so much that I am not entitled to expect, let alone dare request, your forgiveness. This wretched, rotten heart of mine does not deserve to be soothed by forgiveness. Such consolation is beyond what I endeavour to attain by means of this note. My only wish is to convey my utmost regret, and sorrow, and desperation, upon having deceived and brought harm to all of you. I am but a monster; a villainous, treacherous monster. Therefore, do not forgive me, and do not miss me—_

_A.B._

The first time he'd read the note, freshly written by his lady's charcoal pencil, Sebastian had been thoroughly amused. Perusing it again after seven decades, his feelings were hardly different: his smile still dripped heavy with amusement, along with trace amounts of an odd certain something.

Nostalgia, maybe—

He frowned, softly stroking with his thumb one of the many smudged letters. The formerly neat and smooth handwriting had deteriorated into a barely legible mash-up of sentences. Yet the mere sight of it had evoked a chain of long-lost memories, among which the full content of the note.

"Ah…"

His irises glowed crimson. A reverie was rewinding in a corner of his mind, going all the way back to the night when the doom of A.B. had begun.

"Dear _monstrous_ Annie…Villainous, treacherous _Annie…_"

The demon butler chuckled to himself, laughing at his lady's misconceptions about monsters, and humans' stupidity in general.

"Poor little creature, couldn't recognize a monster even when _falling in love_ with it. How very…very foolish of you, Miss Bennet, quite very foolish."

His wicked grin exposed his sharp white fangs, in such stark contrast to the pitch black nails of his fingers tenderly holding the frayed frail paper.


	4. Four

**A/N:** This is where the changes from the old version begin. Previous readers, please pay attention :) Chapters will be a little longer from now on so I will update less often-also because I'm currently writing this this story and I don't want to run out of chapters to post too soon.

I think I will resort to weekly posting, every Friday or Saturday. We'll see. Till then, enjoy, both old new readers!

* * *

Chapter IV

London.

June, 1816.

A crowded ball.

A.B.'s second Season.

Towards the end of a waltz, a nimble young couple stealthily left the dance floor, twirling away from prying eyes.

"Miss Bennet, do you really think we should—"

Miss Bennet hushed her partner as they advanced towards one of the backmost velvet curtains leading out in the hall.

"Miss Bennet, your mother—"

"My mother is too engrossed in Mrs. Jennings's stories," Miss Bennet whispered, "I heard them talk about Lady Bertram's pug." She slammed the gentleman against a wall and smiled seductively into his face. "I hate dogs."

And with that, she fiercely assaulted his lips, wasting no time with gallantries. He quietly succumbed to her charms and even dared to tag along. His naughty hands descended to her rear, which prompted Miss Bennet to abruptly break the kiss.

"Wicked Wickham, you lewd man!"

But her remonstrance was not taken seriously, mostly due to the playful grin she sported and the weak slap delivered to his shoulder.

Wickham clutched the lady whole in his arms and resumed his attentions. She held her palms on his chest, just in case she'd have to suddenly push him away, such as when she thought she could hear her little sister's voice.

"Emilie?" Miss Bennet asked no one in particular as she distanced herself from her partner.

"What are you doing, Anne?" the young man protested, grabbing her elbow.

"That was Emilie!"

"No, it wasn't."

He tried to pull Anne to him again but just in time to prove her claims, a low gasp emerged from the unseen depths of the unlit hall, "No, sir, pray don't—"

Miss Bennet let out a gasp of her own and attempted to go to her sister's rescue.

"Leaving me now, after stirring my fire?"

An angered Wickham seized her waist and covered her mouth to prevent her from screaming. He whisked her off, somehow managing to find his way out in the street and to keep walking despite Miss Bennet's furiously flinging her legs.

The favourite daughter of a courageous colonel, Anne had learnt unbeknownst to anybody how to shoot a gun and wield a sword but her thin build didn't hold enough strength to fend off this sort of threat. It was even more frightening since she was fully aware she had brought it upon herself.

Tears began to pool in her eyes after a few more minutes of struggling in vain to break free from Wickham's grasp. She briefly considered saying a prayer but felt she had no right to. She was as vile as him, unworthy of God's protection. In her hopelessness, her tears grew.

At the rate Wickham was going, she knew he would cause significant damage. He would ruin her, physically, socially, in all ways possible. She certainly did not want that. How would she ever face her friends again, her family?

Her father?

Clinging on to dear life like most pathetic human beings, she racked her brain for a solution to her dangerous predicament. A verse unexpectedly arose in her mind, a verse from a strange book she'd read at her brother-in-law's castle.

She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die. She really didn't want to die.

The verse, too, became a frantic chant but when Wickham cuffed her cheek because she tried to shout, she wished the bastard dead. It was a forlorn wish, however, for she knew it was impossible to fulfill.

_Perhaps not._


	5. Five

**A/N:** Enter the demon! Next update will be next week :) Not sure if on Friday or sooner. Make sure you tune in!

* * *

Chapter V

"Perhaps not."

Wickham froze at the sound of the grave voice. "Who's there?" He straightened up, terrified.

Anne looked on in astonishment, hardly believing that the nonsense she had read in her brother-in-law's book was actually real. She had summoned a demon.

"What is it that you want from me, young lady?" the voice spoke again.

"Who is that, Anne? Why is it talking to you?" Wickham trembled as he inquired.

Anne gathered the courage to stand up and walk to the dark, ethereal figure. There were a thousand things she could ask of him but nothing came to mind.

…Until the agitated voice of her sister pierced her memories. Emilie was on the road to ruin and as her older sister Anne had a duty to protect her.

"I want…," she began shakily but grew more resolute as her sister's safety became a fixed goal, "I want to be able to protect my sister until she needs me no more."

Her hands were on her bosom, holding up her gown. From a distance she might have looked like she was praying.

"Very well," the demon said, struck by her fiery viridian eyes. "I must now seal the deal, with a symbol on your body. The more visible the place…the stronger the contract." He watched her tense instinctively due to self-consciousness but she loosened up quickly. "Now, where would you like it?"

Anne swallowed a knot in her throat. For all her daring performances, she hadn't once had a man touch her bare skin, except for the barbarian Wickham who had forced himself onto her.

After a second's thought, she lowered her hands to expose her upper body. She looked down at her navel to point the place to the demon.

He grinned imperceptibly. "You are aware, I reckon, that you are giving your soul to me?"

She gave a silent, weak nod.

His claw traced a line across her cheek to her jaw, down the side of her neck to her collarbone, between her breasts to her belly button.

Anne shivered, the feeling foreign and unbelievably good. He sensed her pleasure and relished in it, standing a little too close as he pressed his palm on her solar plexus. Anne had to bite her lip and shut her eyes to keep in a yelp of pain.

Once he was done, Anne was breathing hard and struggling to cover herself with her damaged dress.

"May I?" the demon intervened but before she could answer, her gown was perfectly mended. "What shall I do with the gentleman over there?"

Anne was too mesmerized by the miracle that had just occurred to be able to give a well-thought answer. "Whatever you please," said she, and he took the liberty to charge at the poor man who had wet his trousers.


	6. Six

**A/N:** Next update will be on Friday :) By the way, have I ever told you where this story's title comes from? Check back on Friday :P

* * *

Chapter VI

"Is…Is he…" Anne stuttered helplessly, cowering at the sight of the lifeless body sprawled on the cobblestones. She gulped. "Is he dead?"

Her voice was barely there. She had seen dead animals in the past, killed them herself when she had gone hunting to practice shooting. Still, as she leaned against the wall with her eyes on Wickham's blood, she suddenly felt sick and was on the verge of fainting.

"Is that not what you wished for?"

A hand reached out for her and steadied her on her feet. Anne looked warily at the clawed fingers curled on her arm, attempting to catch a glimpse of her saviour's countenance. She dared not lift her face to meet his, however.

"I—I did, but…" Her cheeks reddened. This was such an impossible situation. With no idea what to say or do, Miss Anne Bennet was rendered relatively stunned.

"Are you unwell?" the mysterious demon asked, most likely noticing her change of colour.

Anne took a deep breath. "I am staring at a corpse, am I supposed to be well?"

The demon smirked, curiously concealed by shadows. "The man did try to defile you, did he not?"

She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, repeatedly telling herself to be rational. She ended up losing track of the present, giving in to thoughts, numerous thoughts, varied and vivid.

It was only a matter of seconds before she regained her focus through the one word which invaded her mind to the exclusion of everything else, "Emilie!" She could finally turn her head around to get a good look at the creature sworn to fulfill any desire of hers at the expense of her soul.

"You have got to save Emilie." Her determination, combined with a mournful, pitiful frown, twisted her features into an intriguing expression.

The demon, who now took a human shape, bowed to her with a hand on his chest, "As you wish, my lady."


	7. Seven

Chapter VII

Anne and her demon found Emilie crouched in a corner of the dark hall. Whatever 'sir' had ravished her was long gone.

Anne fell on her knees, wrapping her arms around her little sister. "Emilie, oh, Emilie!"

Emilie, although breathing heavily and visibly distressed, did not cry. Her share of tears was shed by her sister who blamed herself infinitely for this irrevocable tragedy.

The demon stood by his mistress but the lack of light prevented Anne from making out too many details of his appearance. His striking red irises were all that she could see.

"Emilie, can you walk?" Anne helped her sister up, arranged her gown and fixed her hair. "Emilie." She cupped the girl's cheeks and looked her in the eye. "Emilie, I need you to wait here for a moment. I will go fetch mamma and we will leave. I just need a moment."

"I apologise, my lady," the demon found it appropriate to say, "it appears that I—"

She held up her hand to interrupt him. "Enough. Please look after Emilie and mend her gown while I look for my mother." She paused and breathed in. "What was your name again?"

"My name is whatever you wish to call me."

Anne pondered on that for a brief moment. "Darcy. Thomas Darcy."

And off she went, her sobs vanishing along with her.

* * *

**A/N:** _I am so sorry!_ I know it's Saturday and I promised I would post on Friday but I _forgot_. So sorry. Well, it must still be Friday somewhere in the world right now. Right? Right?...

Anyway. I also promised I'd let you know where the title comes from. YouTube this: Thomas Bergersen-Soulseeker. Also, Sebastian's new name 'Thomas Darcy' comes from Thomas Bergersen and Fitzwilliam Darcy: Thomas Darcy. D'ye like it? :D

P.S: To make up for this awfully short chapter, another one will be posted tomorrow (unless I forget, _again_, in which case I'll post it on Monday) and chapter IX will come out on Saturday, June 28th. Write me some reviews to remind me!


	8. Eight

Chapter VIII

Anne and her sister were unusually quiet on their way back to their brother's townhouse on Wimpole Street, and had Mrs. Bennet not been so tired that she was dozing off, she would have certainly questioned her daughters as to the reasons for their exhaustion, hoping to hear some exciting stories.

Luckily for the sisters, their mother chose sleep over gossip, and Anne had time enough to stew in her guilt and accustom herself to the grim prospect of dying long before her time. She tried to persuade herself that it was worth it, that it was for Emilie's sake. That it was the least she could to make up for what she should have prevented from happening.

Anne was thus immersed in her reflections and still much too concerned after she changed out of her gown, that she found it impossible to lie down in bed. With cautious steps and without a candle, she stealthily went to the drawing-room where she sat down by herself in the dark.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Anne started at the familiar voice and because she couldn't see a thing, her heartbeat accelerated in fear.

"Darcy," Anne whispered as the candelabra in his hand was suddenly set aflame.

Anne drew back in her chair, strangely uncomfortable. She was reluctant to observe his features, now that there was light enough for her to do so, but eventually her curiosity got the best of her, especially after he uttered these words,

"Are you afraid of me, my lady?"

She turned her head. "Am I afraid of you? You cold-bloodedly murdered a man today, and you are going to kill me, too, one day. Tell me," she looked up, "how can I not be afraid?"

Anne fixed his crimson eyes and inwardly marveled at his handsome countenance. She told herself that he was indeed a demon, a charming creature that lured people into his traps in order to consume their souls.

Darcy appeared quite entertained by his lady's demeanour. "That is a clever thought, indeed. But as my duty is to follow your orders until the day you are to die, I could never hurt you…unless you asked me to."

Anne snorted. "Oh, is not that such a tempting offer!"

The demon responded with a smile. "I should not allow the vessel of your soul to be harmed in any way, lest it would alter the quality of my meal."

"That is particularly comforting, I must admit." It wasn't, really. "Could I ever make you think of me as something other than a prospective dinner?"

"I strongly doubt it."

"I would expect that much. I shall ask you, then, never to remind me of that fact before you must collect your snack."

"Certainly."

There was silence for a short while until Anne recommenced with, "You are to follow my orders until my wish is granted, correct?"

"Correct."

Anne brought her index finger to her mouth and bit on her nail. She did it with such grace that she may have as well posed for a painter. "I shall have to keep you nearby, then."

"However my lady wishes," he bowed.

She half-smirked. "I quite like the sound of that." After a minute's consideration on how she could keep a manservant close enough to use him at will, the young lady's lips curled into a mischievous smile, for she was conniving her most ridiculous scheme yet.

The demon could only stare at her, one part confounded, two parts intrigued.

"I shall make you my _valet_." She pronounced the last word with a French accent, her mouth and tongue wrapping around it in a most playfully seductive manner. Her elbow rested on the arm of the chair, her finger tapping at her chin. She would have laughed, had it not been so late into the night.

"Therefore, Monsieur Darcy," she spoke still with an accent, "you are to be my bodyguard." She chuckled lightly then cleared her throat and reverted to her normal tone, "My father will approve my keeping you if I use that excuse. Especially once news of a fine gentleman's murder will reach his ears. I dare say he will read it in tomorrow's morning paper."

It was interesting how her attitude changed so promptly. Her vanity was aroused by the knowledge of having an all-powerful demon at her disposal and she was delighted with having such an acquisition to brag about. A valet, a gentleman's gentleman, would be her lady's gentleman, a bodyguard! Such a scandalous circumstance! The whole of London would be talking about her.

"I am glad to see your disposition has improved," said Darcy, mostly curious as to how she would reply.

She sighed and stood up. "It has improved enough to make me drowsy." Feeling completely at ease, she didn't bother to hide her yawn. "We will meet tomorrow and I will introduce you to my father as a valet I picked up from a reliable place. I shall need a detailed account of the matter which my father can trust, preferably including persons whom he can contact. Can you arrange that?"

"Certainly."

"Good." Anne began to walk towards her room. "Will you put out the candles," she whispered, "I should not like to catch anyone's attention."

"Very well. Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Darcy—" She stopped and turned to look at him. "Do you even sleep?" His response was a quizzical smiling expression and she shrugged. "Ah, well. 'Till the morrow."

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter on Saturday! So how did you like Soulseeker the song? Tell me in a review!


	9. Nine

Chapter IX

Surely, as expected by the young lady, the next morning brought tidings of the fate of the villainous gentleman and such was Mrs. Bennet's exclamation upon reading his name in the paper, "Good God! And I had just seen that poor young man at Lady Bertram's ball last night! My dear Anne, did not you dance with Mr. Wickham?"

Anne's expression darkened. "Indeed I did, ma'am. It is truly very unfortunate."

Anne also noticed Emilie's unease and vainly attempted to comfort her sister with an affectionate glance. Emilie was too much overwhelmed by her misery; she never lifted her eyes from her plate and could hardly swallow a couple of mouthfuls.

The girls' brother, Frank, and their father, the Colonel, were soon alarmed by this peculiar circumstance and instantly regretted having been engaged elsewhere, with serious business, the past evening.

"That is a most dreadful event, upon my word," Mr. Frank Bennet uttered, "I am too glad that you are all safe to be much worried about it, however. Colonel Bennet, sir," he addressed his father, "we shall not leave our ladies unattended another evening."

The Colonel heartily agreed. "Indeed, my son, indeed you are very right. Imagine what could have been, had they—" But he stopped at once, greatly disturbed by the words he could not pronounce. "What kind of a brute could kill a gentleman in such a horrid way!"

"A clever brute, I daresay," replied Frank, "for he very well thought of throwing the corpse into the river so as to erase any trace of himself. Very clever."

Anne observed that her brother seemed to be quite knowledgeable of such matters and feared for a brief moment that he might grow suspicious. But she knew she needed not fear a thing—Darcy was a demon, as clever as her brother had proclaimed, even more than just clever, cunning and heartless.

In an odd, twisted sort of way, Miss Bennet was proud of her new 'pet', which she suffered better than she would have a dog and which she even preferred to the beloved tomcat Jack waiting for her at Norland Park.

The piece of terrible news was very much to both girls' advantage, as Emilie's distress and Anne's decision not to call on any of her intimate friends that morning were attributed to it. Miss Bennet was satisfied with this turn of events and accompanied her sister to their room where they spent the chief of the morning, assumed by the other family members to be reading or drawing while in fact they secretly talked of last night's occurrences.

Anne was reluctant to begin any conversation but Emilie was very much disposed to make inquiries of her sister. She started thus, "Anne, who was that man?"

"What man?" said Anne carelessly, seated at the writing table with her drawing instruments.

Emilie was immediately by her side, squeezing her arm. "The man you left to watch over me while you went to fetch mamma. The man who fixed my gown without as much as touching it!"

Anne took her sister's hand and led her to the bed. "Emilie, my dear, you need not be afraid—"

"I am not afraid. But—but that man—is not he—" Emilie turned her eyes to the lace on her dress. At last, she murmured, still looking away, "Is not he the murderer?"

The question caught Anne by surprise. She knew not how she should react, lest her sister would be frightened. "If I said he was, would that upset you?" Anne answered after a minute's consideration.

"Mr. Wickham is—was a bad man. Did—did he—"

Anne caught the meaning of her sister's words before she could finish the sentence and shook her head in response. Emilie heaved a small sigh of relief.

Although the faintest trace of a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth, Emilie's eyes were dark and sad. Anne could hardly bear to look at her.

"Emilie," Anne whispered softly, "who was he?"

Emilie tried to pull away but Anne held her hands tight.

"Tell me. Last night, who was the man that hurt you?"

Emilie writhed out of her sister's grasp and retreated to the window. She grabbed a novel—one of those cheerful, fashionable novels—and sat on the sill, reading in silence.

"Why will you not tell me? I told you about that man!"

"Because—" Emilie gulped. "I…I don't want him to die. If I tell you, you will have that man kill him, will you not?"

"Emilie!" Anne sharply protested. "What he did to you—if it is found out, you will be ruined! Our whole family will be put to shame!"

"I love him!" Emilie cried out.

Miss Bennet sprang from her chair. "He's a bad man, a terrible man! Even worse than Wickham, he's a beast!"

"Please, Anne…please, just leave me be."

Anne collapsed on her chair, staring in shock at her younger sister. That must have been it, the shock—the shock must have made Emilie speak like that.

Stunned, Anne silently picked up her pencil to sketch a portrait. Before she was aware of what she was drawing, the face turned out to have a very close resemblance to the enchanting features of her demon Darcy.

A bitter, yet somehow triumphant smile graced her lips. _Her_ demon.

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter X will be out on a Saturday, not sure if July 5th or 12th. I feel like I'm posting too quickly and writing too slowly. I don't want to run out of chapters too soon and keep you waiting for too long afterwards. My chapters are so short as it is. Anyway. FINALS NEXT WEEK! Wish me luck, folks! And thank you for reading :) Penny for your thoughts?


	10. Ten

Chapter X

Anne quit her sedentary pursuits before the morning was over, remembering at once that she _must_ go out to buy some riband and muslin for a new gown. The males of the household, who had been very much satisfied with the ladies' staying indoors, attempted to protest, but Anne knew her way around their arguments much too well.

It was impossible, however, to dissuade her brother—whose profession as a respectable lawyer entitled him to a great deal of wit—from accompanying her to the shops.

"My dearest Annie," said he, "do not try to fool me. I know how much you value a man's opinion of your dress in general, and my opinion in particular. I understand your present gloomy mood but exactly for the same reason that you are gloomy I wish to lend you my arm during your walk along Bond Street."

Anne could but submit to her brother's entreaty and as soon as they were out in the hustle and bustle of London she made this confession to him, "Frankly, my dear Frank," they both smiled at her intentional pun, "I left the house with an entirely different purpose. The object I wish to purchase is by no means something as trifling as muslin but of graver importance."

Frank appeared genuinely surprised. "Really! What shall that be, dear Miss Bennet?"

Anne leaned closer to him, "I shall like to get myself a valet."

"A valet!" he exclaimed in a low voice, "A valet is a gentleman's gentleman, my dear, and so far my knowledge goes, you are my pretty sister, a young _lady_ of one-twenty. What use could you have for a valet? Can you not see how outrageous you are?"

With a roll of her eyes, Anne responded, "Frank, my dearest, it would be even more outrageous if I was _not_ outrageous. I have been called Outrageous Anne for these past two years, both in Bath, and London. And even at our brother's Lismore Castle, a fortnight was sufficient for the old ladies of Waterford to declare me the most outrageous creature in the world!"

Frank laughed, despite himself, as Anne continued, "This time, however, I am not as outrageous as I am rational."

"How so?"

"Well, you see, my beloved brother, this brilliant idea occurred to me this morning. London is such a dangerous place, is not it? And because it is, a handsome young lady such as myself is in need of protection—I have thus chosen to purchase a valet who will be my bodyguard."

"A bodyguard! I believe the old ladies of Waterford will find that too outrageous even for you."

Anne laughed. "I shall tell you of something more outrageous yet."

This statement piqued her brother's interest and she nodded her head discreetly to a lady across the street. "That dowager chaperon who is staring at you rather than her young charge and the poor mindless girl is just about to—oh! Such a swift halt! That gentleman is one fine coachman and that horse a splendid animal, otherwise the paper would have had one more tragedy to report about."

The bustle increased due to the closely avoided accident and the siblings squeezed through the throng to go about their business.

"Ah, London," said Anne at last, "such charming society."

Their walk to the Bond Street shops continued with such biting commentary which reminded Frank of why 'dearest Annie' was his favourite of his three sisters: she was brave to the point of being daring, especially by wearing her hair unusually but comfortably loose, secured with only short ribbons and hats tinier than was common.

The demon Darcy, who kept tagging along closely but camouflaged, followed them to a Bond Street millinery shop and while Frank conversed with the shopkeeper—an old friend of his deceased wife—Anne was endeavouring to choose a proper riband.

As she stood in a quite distant corner, Darcy appeared out of nowhere, placing his index finger over the lady's lips to prevent her yelling in astonishment. Anne almost coloured but regained her composure when a note was dropped in her palm and its author vanished as suddenly as he had come.

The note read that 'arrangements had been made' and that the lady should 'contact Mr. King of Grosvenor Square No.— who has a valet to spare.' Crumpling the note in her hand, Anne picked out a green riband and ushered her brother out and towards Grosvenor Square.


	11. Eleven

Chapter XI

Mr. King was a sad old man who preferred to live in quietude. A widower, who had recently lost his wife to grief after all their sons had died in the Battle of Waterloo, he had not one soul to care for him, except for a loud housekeeper who criticized him at all times and a manservant who was both a cook and a butler.

This Mr. King had been easily persuaded to play his role, and shortly before noon he received the Bennets and introduced them to the valet he wanted to find a master for.

"This poor orphan is just come from the country," said Mr. King, "an acquaintance of Jemima's sent him to London to find employment. He is very well-bred and a very good sort of lad."

Anne glanced at the tall Darcy before Mr. King resumed his speech, "A very good sort of lad, indeed, for he was a General's batman during the war and his valet here in England but the poor General died of a wound and now he is left an orphan."

The two gentlemen exchanged a few more words about the military, which served to greatly improve Frank's opinion of Anne's scheme, while Miss Bennet stood up to discourse with her future servant.

"How did you put all this together?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Does my lady really wish to know?"

"I would not have asked if I hadn't, now would I?"

He smiled. "I really did serve that General during the war. Did a great deal for him."

Anne narrowed her eyes. "A contract?"

"Why, yes, indeed, a contract. He 'died' of a harmless wound. Fortunately, he had a stupid physician."

"Impressive," she could only murmur before Frank stood up and began to question the former batman.

His queries were answered so delightfully that at the very end, Frank remembered he didn't know the lad's name.

"Darcy," the demon said and Frank laughed.

"Darcy! By Jove! Not Fitzwilliam, I hope?"

The demon frowned, bemused. "No, sir. Thomas. Thomas Darcy is my name." He glanced curiously at his lady who bore a very nonchalant expression.

"My dearest Annie, there you have your Darcy, carved in flesh and bones!"

Anne only sighed and hurried her brother to close the business at once so that they could leave. Frank complied but still found occasions enough to tease her on their way back which prompted her to let go of his arm and place Darcy between them.

"He can be quite irritating at times," muttered Anne on one side of the demon.

"I trust you with my sister's safety and comfort, mate," said Frank on the other.

"Certainly."

* * *

**A/N: Short and sweet, or at least I hope so :) Review if you got the brief Jane Austen reference :P If you didn't get it, review all the same! Thank you all for reading ^_^**


	12. Twelve

Chapter XII

"Sebastian, what are you doing?"

The demon slipped the piece of old paper in his pocket and turned to face his Young Master.

Ciel frowned at his butler's bare hands. "Where are your gloves?"

Sebastian smiled. "They got dirty because of the dust. But what are _you_ doing here, Young Master? I thought I told you to wait in the carriage."

The boy ignored the reproachful tone of his servant. "I was wondering what was taking you so long so I came to check."

"Long?" Sebastian raised his brows and proceeded to look at his pocket watch. "Oh my. How time flies by. I will prepare a room for you immediately."

He stomped crisply towards his master and ushered him outside. There were two reasons for his quick departure. One, he hadn't realized how time had passed as he stood in Anne's room poring over Anne's handwriting.

Two, he didn't want an outsider such as his master in his lady's chamber. It felt like he was staining her memory.

"Why not this room?" Ciel suddenly asked.

The butler glanced down at him, vermilion irises laced with something akin to discontent. "Would you really like to sleep in a lady's room?"

Ciel flushed. "How would you know that it was a lady's room?"

"There was a box of jewelry on the dressing table."

The young Earl remained silent for the rest of his walk to a room which Sebastian knew used to be for guests. Another Earl Phantomhive had slept there once.

* * *

**A/N: Another short and sweet chapter but I promise you the next ones will be more interesting and I will try to make them longer. I will also try to update sooner :) Do tell me your thoughts. Did you like this chapter? Yes? No? Why? Are you curious about the other Earl Phantomhive? :P**


	13. Thirteen

Chapter XIII

One bright July morning, during her equestrian stroll along Hyde Park's Rotten Row, Miss Anne Bennet had the pleasure and surprise to be accidentally introduced to one of London's most mysterious bachelors.

As per usual, the Bennets had risen early for their morning promenade and while Colonel and Mrs. Bennet walked slowly arm in arm, their daughters gracefully rode two fine horses chaperoned by their brother.

"Do you ride, Darcy?" Anne asked her valet as he escorted her on foot. She sat straight in the saddle, chin held up high, eyes of jade glancing down at the demon.

"Yes, if I have to," he curtly replied.

"But you were a batman. Did you not ride on the battlefield?"

He pondered the question. "A couple of times. I move faster on foot."

"Really!" Her eyebrows rose. But had she anything more to say on the topic, it surely must have been unimportant, or uninteresting, as her attention was quickly diverted by a young lady of about her own age accompanied by a handsome young man.

"Look at that," Anne whispered, discreetly nodding her head to the couple, "Miss Woodhouse seems to have found herself a suitor."

Darcy smiled. He was amused, but rather by his lady than Miss Woodhouse and her suitor—he was amused she treated him as a human companion, requesting his opinion on whatever a human could opine on, making inquiries about his person and sharing pieces of news and gossip with him. He always tried to offer gallant responses, or listen patiently, depending on what the situation required.

Soon, they passed Miss Woodhouse who was coming from the opposite direction and the ladies acknowledged each other's presence only with frigid, courteous smiles. Darcy could see there was a something unintelligible in Miss Woodhouse's eyes, a feeling of superiority which made her appear that she was looking down on his lady.

Anne had noticed it, too, it seemed, for, as they passed the Woodhouses, she said to her valet, "She looked happier to have surpassed me than to have fallen in love." Her lips curled into a subtle compassionate smile and Darcy understood that his mistress was clever enough not to take foolish people seriously.

He'd realized, after accompanying her to various outings, that she wasn't as shallow and conceited as most people believed her to be. She was fashionable, indeed, but not stupid. Sometimes wild and _outrageous_, sometimes legitimately proud.

But not stupid. And exactly due to her impressive independence and rational mind, her father had allowed her to keep a valet, disregarding common norms, fully trusting his dearest daughter's judgment.

As she kept on riding and conversing with her demon, or greeting acquaintances, Anne unintentionally separated herself from the rest of her family and had she not had such a capable servant by her side, she would have been knocked off her mare by an uncontrolled animal which came rushing towards her from the woods.

Panic struck at once. The loud neighs of the rowdy horse frightened the cheerful, ignorant crowd and even Anne, who had more than once kept her cool in the face of a prospective accident, was startled to see danger approach her so fast.

Its eyes were wide, crazed by an unknown pain. Anne's eyes were wide too, in shock, and even though she held tightly on the reins, succeeding not to fall off, the incoming beast was still a major threat.

In the blink of an eye, though, all was quiet. The crowd was silenced. Stunned. The mad horse had been swiftly subdued by the strong arms of a demon and a fatal accident avoided. Unknowingly, Anne heaved a sigh of relief.

"Anne!" she heard her brother shout. Turning her head, she saw him run towards her. "Good God!" he cried as he helped her dismount, "Are you all right?" He pressed her hand to support her but his eyes were soon drawn to the exceptional valet. "Are you all right, mate? You did incredibly well."

"Thank you, sir." Darcy bowed at Frank's grateful smile.

The danger now over, there remained a dilemma. What was with the horse? It looked like it had escaped from a carriage, but how and whom did it belong to?

That question was promptly answered, as a man emerged from the line of woods separating the carriage drive from the Rotten Row track.

"Dear me," he breathed, "dear me! I hope nobody is hurt?"

The already chattering crowd gasped in unison and proceeded to chatter again, but on a different topic.

"Henry!" Frank called. Apparently this gentleman was an intimate friend of his. "Is this horse yours?"

"Yes," Henry stepped closer and took the reins from Darcy, "I am so glad that nobody is hurt."

"That is thanks to that mighty lad over there," Frank pointed to the demon, "otherwise my sister might have been dead now!"

Henry paled, with such a pitiful expression of sincere apology that Anne felt sorry for him. "Frank," she gently reprimanded her brother, taking his arm.

"I am so very sorry, Miss Bennet—you _are _Miss Anne Bennet, are you not?" Another man came into sight, Henry's coachman, to whom he left the horse to properly extend his apologies.

"Yes, I am," she curtseyed. "I see my brother has talked to you about me, however—I know nothing about you, dear sir."

He took her hand to kiss it. "My name is Henry Phantomhive."

Anne finally understood the frantic murmur of the crowd. Phantomhive! The Earl Phantomhive himself! She had only heard his name gossiped about, never had a chance to see him. To discover that he was such an intimate friend of her brother's that they called each other by their first names! Unbelievable.

Earl Phantomhive made sure that neither the lady, nor her horse had suffered any damage, humbly apologized to the whole crowd for the terror he had caused them and finished by inviting the Bennets to breakfast with him.

* * *

**A/N: This has been long overdue _ I'm sorry! But at least this chapter is a bit longer :) To make up for the long absence, I'll post the following chapter on Sunday, but after that I'm afraid you'll have to wait for a pretty long while. I've been caught up with my other projects recently and haven't been able to write too much Soulseeker. However, I promise things are only gonna get better!**

**PS: Drop me a review to remind me to update! I tend to be a bit forgetful :P**


	14. Fourteen

Chapter XIV

Earl Phantomhive was a delightful host to his guests, entertaining them all but one. Emilie was not in very good spirits and barely ate. Her sister noticed and attempted to ease her discomfort but she was interrupted.

"You have been quite the talk of town these past few weeks, Miss Bennet," the Earl noted.

Anne smiled, looking away from her sister. Emilie stared blankly at the butter on her bread and reached out with shaky fingers for her cup of tea.

"Have I, Lord Phantomhive?" Miss Bennet replied.

The Earl glanced at the valet standing behind her. "I had known of your…exotic nature beforehand but I would never have imagined something of this sort." His smile denoted appraisal rather than reproach.

Anne laughed. "Exotic! That must be one of the best compliments I have ever received. Are you certain you are not _outraged_, my lord?"

"Why should I be outraged? Your valet saved your life today—and I must apologise once more for the trouble I have caused you."

"Oh, no trouble at all! In fact, I am quite glad to have met you." She turned to Frank. "My dear brother has never bothered to mention he was an intimate friend of the Earl Phantomhive."

"And I am glad to have met the lady with a valet. But I am sure, Miss Bennet, that Frank did not mean to slight you by not telling you about me."

"He's always been a quiet fellow, this one," Colonel Bennet joined the conversation. "Besides, Annie, you should not expect your brother to gossip about his friends."

"Papa!" Anne cried. "Then should I expect him to gossip about _me_ to his friends?"

"I must speak in your brother's defence, Miss Bennet," the Earl said, "I was the one who inquired about you after you were presented at court last year. You were the most impressive of the debutantes."

Anne blushed at the flattering remark. "What did you think of my sister this year?" she asked, hoping the Earl's answer would cheer Emilie up.

The Earl smiled fondly at Miss Emilie Bennet but he didn't answer.

Frank chose to speak instead. "Lovely creature, is not she?" All the eyes turned to him. "Is what I heard him say," Frank added, grinning at his friend.

Anne was absolutely thrilled but when she turned to see her sister's reaction, her joy faded into horror. Emilie looked terribly unwell

"Emilie, are you all right? Emilie!"

Emilie had covered her mouth and suddenly stood up. Earl Phantomhive jumped to his feet, as well.

"A pot, quickly!" he ordered the maid.

But Darcy acted faster. He grabbed the girl's elbow, leading her out of the dining room, and fetched a pot from the kitchen in a flash. Emilie disgorged the little she had eaten, shivering until her knees gave in. The Earl rushed to catch her and couldn't help frowning at the dubious valet holding the pot with one hand and Emilie's hair with the other.

"Margaret, water, please. And a towel."

Anne hurried to her sister, kneeling beside her. She replaced Darcy's hands, gathering Emilie's hair together and supporting her forehead. The maid came with water and the men withdrew, allowing Miss and Mrs. Bennet to tend to the queasy Emilie.

"Frank, my dear friend," the Earl said rather meekly, "I have no words—I seem to only be causing you harm this morning."

" 'Tis not your fault that my sister got sick, Henry."

Henry was not comforted, however. "She got sick eating the breakfast I offered! Of course it is my fault."

"My son is right, Lord Phantomhive." Colonel Bennet stood near his son, looking exceedingly grave. "I do not quite believe your breakfast made her sick."

* * *

**A/N: SEE? I TOLD YOU I WAS FORGETFUL! I am ****_so_**** sorry! It's been so long since I updated, I didn't mean to make you wait like this! I apologize :( ****_However,_**** I hope this chapter is making up for this! Mwhaha! **

**Review? :D If you don't, I'll forget to update, ****_again._**


	15. Fifteen

Chapter XV

Darcy glanced at the old Colonel, more or less guessing his thoughts. A father of four, he must have been well-acquainted with such symptoms.

Needless to say, the Bennets took their leave as soon as Emilie's condition allowed them to and the Colonel was already making plans to depart London. The ride back home was grim and quiet but no one was as grim and quiet as Anne.

It was just her and her valet in Earl Phantomhive's gig—the same one from which the crazed horse had escaped—while the rest of the Bennets rode in Frank's four-seat chaise. The gig was lighter, therefore faster, and it arrived first on Wimpole Street.

"Would you like me to wait with you, my lady?" he asked as he helped Anne out of the carriage. Darcy was to take the gig back to Earl Phantomhive but he thought his lady might need some assistance until her family appeared.

"No need," she said blankly, though she was still holding onto his hand.

He curled his fingers around hers and led her inside the house. "I will return shortly."

Anne did not respond or move, and neither did her demon. He wondered how long it would take her to realize she had to let go of him and began to count the seconds.

Miss Bennet stood still, as if she had frozen, eyes stuck to the floor. Her mind was void of any thoughts or feelings or memories. Shock had overcome her. She only snapped out of her trance when she heard a carriage drive up to the door and raised her head to look outside. Her sparkling irises had turned dull.

She finally released Darcy's hand to lift her dress as she climbed the stairs.

Eight-and-twenty seconds.


End file.
